Five Hundred Miles
by dottsie
Summary: Deuce's aunt is holding her wedding in a 5-star hotel in Miami, where he ends up meeting a princess named Cleo. Cleo does not like seeing skateboards in her father's hotel. (Human AU)


Miami felt like a different world to Deuce.

He couldn't help but feel like he was on the set of a TV show as he looked around the lobby of the hotel they were checking in to; it was decorated with palm trees, the floor tiles had flecks of what looked like gold, and a grand fountain served as a centerpiece. The de Nile was a sleek 5-star hotel, and it was so pristine he felt like it shouldn't even exist in real life.

The only reason he and his mother were staying there was because of his aunt's wedding. His new uncle was made of money and wanted the two families to become one in the nicest place possible.

So, of course, this warranted a trip to a high-end hotel on a beach in Florida, which was also where their wedding would be held. Deuce didn't think his aunt was gold digging, but he did think his new uncle was showing off.

Not that Deuce was complaining.

He dropped his skateboard to the floor and rolled away from his mother, who was getting their room key. Maneuvering around people, he glanced at the ceiling, which had to be at least three stories high, and approached the fountain.

He thought about trying to grind his board across the edge of the fountain, but decided against it because he didn't feel like falling in. If this place looked like it was pulled out of a movie, who's to say it didn't have an ironic sense of humor, too?

His thoughts were interrupted by a girl's voice that made him jump and nearly crash. It cut through the low chatter in the room like a knife. "Hey! Skater boy!"

Deuce figured that couldn't be in reference to anyone but himself, so he regained his balance and turned towards the source of the call. He was met with a girl about his age click-clacking her high heels towards him.

She did not look happy.

The girl said, "What do you think you're doing?"

He tilted his head. "Uh… is that a trick question?"

The girl stopped in front of him and narrowed her eyes. "Don't play dumb with me. You think that just because you use Manic Panic you can do whatever you want? Get that slab with wheels out of my father's lobby, you'll scuff the floors."

"I—"

"Save the ollies for the streets outside. I don't want to see you rolling around on it again."

They locked eyes for a moment, and she broke the gaze by walking away to Deuce's right. He watched her go, and felt his face warming up, but he wasn't entirely sure it was because he had been called out for breaking the rules.

* * *

It was later that same day, and he had decided to look around the building to see what it had to offer. This time, he decided to leave his board in his room.

He'd asked his cousin Viperine if she wanted to walk around with him, but the other cousins had enlisted her to help them pick the perfect shades of makeup for tomorrow. Viperine was an expert in stuff like that.

So far, he had visited the swimming pool (which was enormous and featured a path to the boardwalk and the beach), and other odds and ends like the weight room and the breakfast bar. Every room kept up with the lobby's trend of being very large and very…expensive-looking.

Now, he was in a recreation room, which had TVs mounted on the wall and a couple pool tables. He had picked up one of the sticks a few minutes beforehand, and was aimlessly sinking the billiard balls into the pockets. The droning of a news anchor was the only sound aside from the noise Deuce was making.

He was the only person in the room; he wondered where everyone was. His own family was probably getting things ready for the wedding tomorrow, but there were more people than just them staying there.

After his 6th failed attempt to sink the cue ball, he stood up straight. He was about to put the stick back where it was when he noticed the same girl who scolded him earlier standing in the doorway with an amused look. Oh, no.

He crossed his arms sheepishly. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that you don't know the first thing about pool."

Deuce felt his face getting hot again.

"You're not supposed to sink the white ball. That's the one you use to sink the others with."

"Oh."

"You aren't holding the cue right, either."

"The what?"

She rolled her eyes. "The stick."

He grinned. "Well, if you know so much about pool, why don't you teach me?"

She scoffed. "Fine, I will!"

She approached him again, but with less speed and purpose than the first time. Deuce's breath caught in his throat. Oh God, had his stupid line worked?

Instead of going behind him and flirtatiously directing his arms like he had pictured in his imagination two seconds ago, she snatched the stick from his hand and repositioned the cue ball by slamming it on the table. "Watch closely. There's a science to this, and I'm only going to explain it once."

He didn't know how, but watching her play and listening to her direction was somehow infinitely more attractive to him than anything else. She had a royal and commanding presence about her.

Deuce didn't learn much from her one teaching session, since he was so distracted by the way her hair fell over her shoulders. When she handed the stick back to him, he managed to sink a few, but didn't even come close to her score.

The girl sighed and tapped her fingernails on the table. "Better, but you still have a lot to learn."

"Hey, it's just been one night. How long have you been playing?"

"Since I was a little girl."

"See?"

"Alright, alright." She looked at the TV as if she wasn't paying attention to Deuce. "By the way, I'm sorry about the screaming earlier. We get far too many people causing trouble on purpose, and I don't think you meant any harm, but I was on edge."

He sat next to her. "It's not a big deal. What did you mean when you mentioned your father? Does he own this place?"

"Mm-hmm. We live in the smaller building right across the street, too; it's easier for him to manage if he's here all the time, and my sister and I spend a lot of time here, too."

"It's almost like that show that"

She made a fake gagging noise. " Stop right there. I'd sooner move out of this place than be compared to those two boys."

Deuce chuckled as his phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, he gathered two very important pieces of information: he had been gone for well over an hour, and his mother had left him 4 text messages asking where he was, all of them in caps.

He sucked in air through his teeth. "Shoot, I gotta go. My mom's all worked up."

She faced him. "How long are you staying, out of curiosity?"

"Today, tomorrow for my aunt's wedding, and we're leaving the day after that."

She let her pinky finger brush his. "Noted."

He smiled at her as he stood up. "Will I see you around?"

"I'm always around." Her necklace sparkled almost blindingly, even in the low lighting of the room.

* * *

The next day was so busy that Deuce didn't run into the girl, but the wedding went as beautifully as it could have. The reception was now in full swing.

Deuce, while he loved his family, needed a break from the party. He was exhausted already; it was unbelievably loud in there, and he lost track of how many times his aunt made the rounds with him and his cousins. She had been kissing them all on the cheek and shouting over the music about how happy she was they were all here. They'd all have to wash lipstick off their faces.

He mentioned to his mother that he was going to step out for a minute, and exited the reception room through a door that led to a hallway. The door shut, and the music became much muffled and much less overbearing. Leaning against the wall, he checked his phone and welcomed the semi-silence.

After a minute or two, it was broken with a "Well, hello again!"

He didn't have to look up to know it was the girl. He locked his phone and put it in his pocket, directing his attention towards her. "Hey! What brings you back here?"

"I came to see what all this noise was about."

"Didn't I mention that my aunt's wedding was gonna be today?"

She shrugged and looked at her nails. "I don't know, did you?"

Deuce was about to mention that his hotel must also host a lot of weddings, so why was this out of the ordinary, but she smiled at him knowingly.

It occurred to him that she may have come here on purpose.

He suddenly felt bold. "I have a proposition."

She narrowed her eyes and her smile grew. "Are you gonna ask for another pool lesson? Because I'm up for that."

He shook his head. "Be my date to this wedding." Perhaps too bold.

"…this wedding? As in, the wedding that's happening in the room behind you?"

"Yeah, what else?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "The ceremony's over, isn't it? And I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion."

"What are you talking about? That dress is really nice."

"This is grocery store casual."

"I bet my own suit is worth less money. You look really great, I promise."

The girl pursed her lips, not-so-obviously hiding a smile. "Well, what do I get out of it?"

"Free entry to a Greek wedding?" Deuce took her manicured hand in his tattooed one. "And a subpar dance partner."

"Mm, you make a compelling argument, you know."

She sighed through her nose and rolled her eyes. After a few long moments of deliberation, during which Deuce thought his lungs may have stopped working, she replied, "I suppose I can spare an hour. Or several."

She laced their fingers together and he grinned.

He reached for the doorknob with his free hand before pausing. He locked eyes with her again and bit his lip nervously. "Uh… I didn't catch your name."

She burst out laughing; it sounded genuine and unrehearsed, but not at all mean. "Cleo. De Nile, if you didn't gather."

"I'm Deuce." His own name sounded clunky after hearing the name Cleo. He wanted to repeat her name over and over, because it sounded like a beautiful two-syllable poem, especially when accompanied by her laugh.

Instead, he opened the door and led her in, letting his own laughter join hers.

* * *

It was two in the morning, and the reception hadn't officially ended, but it started to wind down by the time Deuce and Cleo had decided to leave for the night.

Deuce's mother had already returned to their room and was probably passed out on the bed, and he felt like doing the same since he had to pack tomorrow, but Cleo said she could sneak them into the pool after-hours.

That is how he ended up sitting on the edge of a pool next to her, his shoes off and the legs of his pants rolled up so he could dangle his feet in the water. Cleo was doing the same thing; neither of them had swimsuits, and they didn't feel like changing.

It was mostly an excuse to spend a little more time together. The weekend had passed far too quickly, and Deuce didn't want to leave her just yet.

The water was illuminated by lights inside its walls, and it looked almost magical in comparison to the lack of lighting around the pool at this hour.

Cleo slowly kicked her feet back and forth. "Why didn't your aunt have her wedding on the beach? It's right there."

Deuce shrugged. "I don't know. That seems like the best idea to me, but they kept saying it might rain, and that the beach would still be there after the wedding." He stared at the bottom of the pool, the tiles warped by the moving water. "You must meet a lot of different people, living here and all."

"I do. Now, whether this is a good thing or not is up for debate. I see as many respectable people staying here as I do obnoxious ones. All of them pass through like lighting, though, so it's hard to keep track."

"See a lot of cute people?"

"I wouldn't say a lot, but I did meet a cute guy very recently. Yesterday, actually."

She nudged her shoulder into his. He looked down, but he was as bad at hiding his smile as she was. Deuce wondered if it was too soon to want to kiss her.

He said, "So, what else is there to do here? Besides sit by a pool at an ungodly hour."

"Well, there's the beach, of course. There's also the boardwalk; there's a bunch of stands that sell all kinds of things there. And the god-awful gift shops on the street. The gift shops are an experience in and of themselves."

"I'll have to come back sometime. You'll need to be my tour guide."

"I will not be your tour guide. You'll be my entourage."

"Fair enough."

The only sounds were the waves crashing in the distance and the hum of the pool lights. Again, the place seemed unreal, like he was going to wake up from a dream soon.

He scraped his fingers against the concrete as if he was trying to dig into it. "I wish I could stay longer. Less than three days isn't enough."

Cleo sighed deeply. "Time's a fickle thing."

* * *

Deuce felt anxiety pulling at his chest while staring at the hotel's entrance from the backseat of his cab. Everything felt wrong.

He'd combed through the hotel that morning looking for Cleo, but she was nowhere. He hadn't seen her since the night before, and had even briefly rolled around the nearby building to see if she was somewhere other than the hotel.

They hadn't thought anything through, hadn't exchanged contact information or anything like that, and now it was time for him to go back home, and he'd never see her again. He was beyond annoyed with himself for not thinking to give her his number.

He looked back down at his feet and heard the car trunk close. His mother opened the door to the passenger seat and climbed inside. "You ready to go, Deuce?"

His voice was barely above a mumble. "Yeah."

"You don't sound ready. Forget something?"

"I'm ready." he said, a bit more forcefully than he could have. The seatbelt was digging into his neck, even through his shirt.

Mrs. Gorgon glared. "Watch your tone." She turned to the driver. "Alright, sir, all set."

The driver started the car, and Deuce clenched his hands.

The cab barely got its start before it abruptly braked. The driver honked his horn, obviously telling someone to move or to watch where they were going, but Deuce didn't look to see what the distraction was. Not until he heard a now-familiar voice shout, "Hey!"

Through the front window, he saw it was Cleo, standing a couple feet away from the car, her hands on her hips and her face in a scowl. Deuce's heart rate skyrocketed.

He rolled down his window immediately, since his door had locked automatically and he wasn't thinking, and leaned the top half of his body out of the car. His grin was infectious. Cleo walked around his side of the car and stopped in front of him, her expression not changing.

She scoffed. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye?"

"I looked everywhere for you–"

She put a finger on his lips with one hand and held up a piece of elegant-looking paper in the other. "I regret it, but I had responsibilities elsewhere at the worst time. Here, take this. I better hear from you, do you understand me?"

Deuce nodded and she handed the paper to him, her fingers trailing on his hand. "Good. Don't lose it, that stationary is the best money can buy."

Cleo turned towards the entrance and walked up the stairs, trying to look authoritative in her actions, but she was very clearly flustered. She nearly bumped into a doorman who was exiting the building, and she huffed, her face turning red.

She looked back before going in, and her expression finally softened. She waved as her mouth let itself smile, and Deuce waved back. He felt like he might explode.

When she was gone, he vaguely heard his mother asking what the hell that was about, but he was preoccupied with looking at the paper. The only thing written on it (in gold ink, no less) was a phone number.

He had it memorized by the time they got to the airport.

* * *

It took more than six hours for Deuce to get home. It was excruciating; the process was already a pain, but he also had to deal with the anticipation of calling Cleo, which sat at the back of his mind the entire time.

During the flight's descent, Deuce kept his phone in his hand, ready to switch it off airplane mode and dial the numbers he'd been repeating in his head.

The plane landed, and he didn't wait for it to decelerate before putting his phone back to its normal settings and going to the phone app.

He wasn't sure why he was calling instead of texting; it was the first thing his impulse told him to do. He double-checked the paper to make sure he got it right, and pressed the green button. He was glad his mother was seated in a different row; she would have asked what he was doing.

The phone rang once before it was picked up. He collected himself as the grass rushed by outside his seat's window. He hadn't expected her to pick up so fast, possibly not at all.

"Cleo—"

"It's about time!"


End file.
